


Angel's Eye

by Lightonhisfeet



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Character Study, Ficlet, Mild Blood, Spoilers for EP 111
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:14:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26651251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lightonhisfeet/pseuds/Lightonhisfeet
Summary: The body that was Mollymauk has reawakened. For some reason they cannot seem to say dead. Visions of a chained spirit drive them to the Biting North. In search of some great weapon.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	Angel's Eye

This body’s lungs were filled with dirt and dust. The muscles seized trying to bring life giving air to the body, but there was no air to suck in. Everything around It was hard packed dirt partially frozen from the changing seasons. Blindly the body moved under the weight of the rocks and dirt and moved where It suspected was Up.

With crusted fingernails, It dug through the ground. Moving the earth and the vegetation that encapsulated It. Fungus and thriving plants seemed to shrink away as It dug towards the sky.

A single bloody and withered hand grasped out from the ground. Reaching to the sky as if the moon would lend a hand. But the corpse pulled itself above the surface. Coughing out dirt and pieces of still growing fungus and delicate roots fine as hair. As air filled Its lungs once again, it screamed out into the night. The way newborn creatures normally come into the world.

Grasping around for anything on the surface the corpse pulled itself fully from the dirt. Its horns becoming entangled in a piece of garish fabric. The bright colors and designs were an unwelcome sight, too mesmerizing and intricate for It to understand the significance.

It laid on the ground a few feet from the now gaping grave. Enjoying the air, it could now breathe in peace. Staring up at the moon its mind became more focused. At last becoming accustomed to the world. It was not long until the lavender Tiefling pushed itself to their knees. And then to its feet. Memories of their past lives and experiences coming back to the present. How to move, how to think, how to speak, how to read.

Not until the Tieflings foot brushed a piece of parchment tacked to the ground did it focus once more. The memories of the past no longer the main concern, but the information now at their feet.

_Cree…_

_The Gentleman…_

_Zadash…_

Turning their back on the open grave, they left into the wilderness. Where they suspect Zadash to be. Leaving the sun-bleached cloak under the moon.

*

They think back on their rebirth into this world as the frigid wind howls outside. In the far north of Eiselcross was a set of ruins they saw in a dream. A dream where a chained spirit of the past revealed this place to the Tiefling. A cave that contained ruins of the grand city of Aeor. The once proud flying city of old. Visions of this place and the wonders built on Aeor were shared with Them. So convinced were they of Aeor’s wonder and opportunity, convincing Cree to accompany them would be the only path forward.

At the mouth of this cave stood an obelisk and only They could see the opportunity it represented. Runes found in Blood Magic scrolls and icons of deeper magics were carved into the stone. Only in the Tieflings imagination could the obelisk fit into the visions shared by the chained spirit. The obelisk was caked in ice and snow filled every crevice. It stood as a large stalagmite of frozen ruin.

With the promise of a campfire and a warm meal Cree and their Tiefling companion entered the cave. The wind howled their arrival and screeched through the night. As the pair struggled in silence to build a fire and cook a warm meal in the tundra. The Tiefling could feel the power of this place. The pair were indeed in the correct spot.

“the Epoch…” the Tiefling whispered but stopped, their quiet words filling the space as if spoken with force. Cree, eyes never closing and blind from the charms placed on her, did not react to the Tieflings words. Only to the draw that was placed upon her.

Cree spoke at last, hardly making any noise after the Tiefling’s charm in Zadash. “May I hear the words once more? Now that we have reached the spot that was foretold…” The Tiefling did not need any more reason to espouse their visions.

In a clear ringing voice, the Tiefling recounted, “ _Restore forgotten shrines in his honor._ _Offer and gather power for Oblivions return. Prepare for the Epoch of Ends.”_

The evil words rang through the frozen cave. Not even the gale could quiet its echoing through the chamber and even further into the cave. In a normal situation Cree would have been frightened by the declarations of a caged god. But the words now rang with truth and hope for her. Under the charms her eyes were clouded, and her senses muddied.

“Long May he Reign.” Cree responded with reverence. The Tiefling repeated the honorific.

*

Over the next month the Tiefling and Cree delved deep into the frozen wastes of Eiselcross. Scouring the landscape for extra pieces of Aeor tech or magic. Anything that would give the burgeoning acolytes some extra protections from the world. Unbeknownst to them, the wild magic that surrounded the islands had grown more erratic when the Moonweaver returned Artagan to the Feywild. The veils of magic that separated the planes from each other were growing increasingly thin. Allowing more and more amalgamations to appear in the frozen lands. The Astral Sea had swallowed entire swaths of hills and cave systems. Creating oil slicks in the air where magic and creatures escaped from. Not even the visions of the future could steel Cree and the Tiefling to enter those profane spaces.

Luckily, they would not need too. As their influence grew in the Biting North, others seeking the future and following visions of a chained spirit came too them. Falling under the influence of the Tieflings devil tongue. Some needed to be charmed to follow instruction. Yet some had come purely of their own free will. Hearing at last the call to be answered. As their strength grew so did the things they find.

With the ancient laboratories and tomes scattered across the land, with the Dunamancy equipment they had stolen from the Empire, with the knowledge of various lifetimes powering the Tieflings search, and the knowledge of Blood Magic They shared with Cree, at last their search bared fruit.

The weapon that aroused the ire of the gods was not a world-shattering spell or the machinations of a war machine. It was something much smaller. In fact, something so small no one could hope to see it with the naked eye. Yet with all their knowledge and magics, there was no denying the truth.

A plague that could be refined to affect only those who disobeyed. Those who were other. Aeor could not hope to kill gods for they could not be destroyed by mortal hands. They would instead target the gods power source, what elevated them to godly status in the first place. A population of worshipers. With the removal of daily prayers and rituals, the gods would wither in strength and become so weak they were no longer a threat to Aeor. Maybe becoming so weak that those from Aeor truly could kill an immortal being.

With this information, Cree and the Tiefling could prepare for the Epoch of Ends. Jumpstart the return of Tharizdun with a plague upon the worshipers of other jealous gods.

As the Tiefling stood on the communal dining table and espoused their plans to the assembled acolytes, omitting key details, the red eyes that peppered their body were clearly visible. Months of neglecting skin care has made the tattoos that crossed their body to fade. Leaving the eyes emblazoned on their skin as the defining characteristic. The choices of their past clear for all too see. As they stood above the crowd a dagger appeared in the Tieflings hand. With reverence and iron will, they drove the blade into their eye socket. As they did so, a new spot on their purple body burned as if a red-hot poker had been pressed against the skin.

Blood ran down the Tieflings face and body from the wound, but they did not cry out in pain. Strengthened by their master’s approval. The ritual had been carried out by many of this bodies past lives, save for a few missteps. The Tiefling tossed their eye into the flames of a blazing brazier. The organ sizzled and hissed before it was consumed by the flames.

With a rush of arcane energy, the eyes that crisscrossed the Tieflings body all blinked in unison. As the world came into a new state of being for the Tiefling. They no longer saw through two eyes, but eleven. The ten Angels Eye marks scoured the room, taking in the entire space around the Tiefling. Every nook and crack in the icy walls, the smoke and heat of the braziers that surrounded those assembled, the upturned faces of awe that stared at their leader.

“This is our master’s strength.” The Tiefling spoke with the voice of a dozen people. The past lives of this body all speaking in unison with the same goal and drive. They were an island unto themselves. An entire tribe inside a singular unit of being.

Cree spoke up, tears appearing in the corners of her eyes. “Truly there can be no doubt! Our master is thankful the work we do. When he returns to us, he will bring a myriad of gifts and boons! A jealous god but one who stands above and beyond the rest! We shall be honored above all others!” Cree preached to no one in particular. Yet her words had the desired effect.

“Long May he Reign!” One of the newest acolytes shouted in praise. They had swallowed this rhetoric the way a young fish swallowed a hook and lure. Those assembled took up the chant as well. Joyfully they danced around the fires. Chanting praise and glory onto Tharizdun and their eventual reward for this work.

**Author's Note:**

> -It didn't come up in this fic, but I really think the Grimoire Infinitus has some dark magic that can make a body into an 'anchor' of sorts. A fixed space in the world. The same way mages can recognize a landmark and Teleport too that spot. The magic of the Grimoire can make a body a permanent fixture to the plane it was cast in. A sort of long term safeguard against death rather then just immortality. With long term gains of strength and knowledge. 
> 
> Whatever the case is, Lucien/Nonagon/whatever their name is, Mollymauk was a misstep in their plan. A pothole on the road of destiny. 
> 
> I also just liked the idea of 'Long May he Reign', an honorific that holds such positive vibes for the fandom to be corrupted into a threat.


End file.
